.png)
Storytelling is as old as humanity itself. From ancient myths to modern blockbusters, stories have shaped the way we see the world and our place within it. At the heart of many of these tales lies a central figure: the hero. The hero saves the day, conquers adversity, and becomes the symbol of hope. But in a world as complex and interconnected as ours, does every story really need a hero? Or are we clinging to an outdated narrative that limits how we think, act, and connect?
Let’s challenge this idea—not to dismiss the hero but to explore whether there’s room for a broader, richer way of telling stories. Because when we expand the narrative, we often find that the most powerful stories are the ones that don’t rely on a single hero but instead celebrate collaboration, community, and the power of collective action.
The Hero’s Journey: A Template, Not a Mandate
Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces gave us the archetypal Hero’s Journey—a story structure that underpins everything from Star Wars to fairy tales. The hero hears a call to adventure, faces trials, defeats the villain, and returns transformed. It’s a compelling framework because it mirrors the human experience of growth and challenge.
But here’s the catch: the Hero’s Journey is just one way to tell a story. When we insist that every narrative must follow this structure, we risk reducing stories to a formula. And in doing so, we ignore the beauty and nuance of other kinds of stories—the ones that don’t have a single protagonist, that don’t tie up neatly in the end, that don’t promise triumph over adversity but instead ask us to sit with uncertainty, complexity, and ambiguity.
Stories Without Heroes Are Stories About Us
What happens when we step away from the idea of a single hero? We make room for something extraordinary. Stories without heroes don’t lack meaning; they expand it. They remind us that the world is not always about individual triumph but about interconnectedness.
Think about a beehive. There’s no single hero bee saving the colony, no central figure leading the charge. Yet every bee’s actions contribute to the survival and success of the hive. The story of the hive isn’t about one hero—it’s about the collective. Similarly, stories that focus on ecosystems, communities, and movements can be just as powerful as tales of lone heroes. They’re a reminder that progress often happens not because of one savior but because of a shared effort.
The Anti-Hero and the Reluctant Leader
Even within hero-centered stories, the definition of a “hero” has been shifting. Anti-heroes like Walter White in Breaking Bad or Tony Soprano in The Sopranos are deeply flawed characters whose actions challenge the traditional notions of heroism. These stories ask: what does it mean to be a hero when the lines between good and bad are blurred?
Then there are reluctant leaders—characters who don’t seek the spotlight but find themselves in it, like Frodo in The Lord of the Rings or Katniss in The Hunger Games. These figures are compelling not because they are larger than life but because they are deeply human. They remind us that heroism isn’t always about strength or courage; sometimes, it’s simply about showing up.
Why We Crave Heroes (and Why That’s Okay)
Let’s be honest: we love heroes because they inspire us. They remind us of what’s possible. A hero stands for something larger than themselves—a cause, a dream, a vision. They give us a reason to believe, especially when the world feels chaotic and uncertain.
But the danger lies in over-relying on heroes. When we look for someone to save us, we sometimes forget that we have the power to save ourselves—or, more importantly, each other. The hero narrative can encourage passivity, making us spectators instead of participants. We cheer for the hero on the screen or the page, but do we see ourselves in their story?
Rewriting the Narrative
What if we stopped asking, “Who’s the hero?” and started asking, “What’s the story we want to tell?” What if we focused less on individuals and more on the systems, communities, and values that shape our world?
Consider movements like climate activism. There’s no single hero leading the charge—no caped crusader saving the planet. Instead, it’s millions of people working together, each playing their part. The story isn’t about one person; it’s about all of us. And that’s what makes it so powerful.
Similarly, look at companies that succeed not because of a charismatic founder but because of a shared vision. Patagonia’s story isn’t about one person; it’s about a mission to protect the environment. The same goes for movements like open-source software or mutual aid networks. These stories challenge the idea that we need a hero to make a difference.
The Stories We Tell Shape the World We Create
At its core, storytelling is about connection. It’s how we make sense of the world and share our experiences with others. When we expand the kinds of stories we tell, we expand our understanding of what’s possible.
Do we need heroes? Sometimes. But we also need stories that remind us of the power of community, the beauty of collaboration, and the strength that comes from standing together. These are the stories that move us forward—not because they have a single protagonist but because they belong to all of us.
Conclusion: Be the Story, Not the Hero
Seth Godin often talks about the power of tribes—communities of people united by a shared purpose. In a way, stories without heroes are tribal stories. They’re about us, not me. They remind us that the most meaningful change happens not when one person takes the lead but when many people work together toward a common goal.
So, does every story need a hero? No. What every story needs is heart. It needs connection, purpose, and the courage to imagine a better future. The question isn’t whether you can be the hero of the story—it’s whether you’re willing to be part of the story at all.